The rich also live in hell
By Abraham Nwankwo
As the Igbo adage aptly goes,
“The strong man holding the weak to the ground,
Is also himself unwillingly holding down.”
Unreliable public electric power supplies,
The poor man’s ventilation fan cannot work,
So spends the night in darkness and agony.
Congested face-me-I-face you apartments
Are choking with heat and sweat,
Because not designed with ventilation in mind.
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Nor would they solace in the day find,
Artisans: carpenters, electricians, welders,
Their tools powered by electricity cannot work.
They idle away, their poverty getting worse,
They already live at the wretched margin,
Where else to slip into but the precipice?
But the rich and powerful are victims also,
Imprisoned mentally they think they can
Isolate themselves from the disaster.
They buy electric power generating plants,
Thinking they can be an island unto themselves,
Distinct from the pervading ocean of misery.
In order to prove they have a magic access,
To the soothing oasis in this scorching desert,
But it’s all an illusion they will find.
The generators create more hell than darkness does:
Deafening noise in the affluent neighbourhoods,
Ensures they lose the right to a restful sleep.
Enveloped in grumbling noise and polluting smoke,
Wake up with brains and minds not sedated,
But in a state of bombardment and agitated.
A torture that could have been easily saved,
If the public power supply were in good shape,
But blinded the rich remain to the truth of it.
With dubiously acquired wealth of sorts,
The rich and powerful buy limousines,
But the roads are full of potholes and gullies
Too swampy and dusty for luxury cars,
Limos designed for motorways in societies fine;
Shamelessly launched on rough roads ill maintained.
So it is right as the Igbo adage goes:
“As the rain beats the wretched slave,
So does it his wicked guard.”
